


Passage to America

by OrinocoFlo1223



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 12:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30088827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrinocoFlo1223/pseuds/OrinocoFlo1223
Summary: Nancy and Isabella are living in their own version of happily-ever-after. However, five years after the events of series 3, Nancy can't help but feel guilty about how she left things with Margaret.
Relationships: Nancy Birch/Isabella Fitzwilliam, Nancy Birch/Margaret Wells
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Passage to America

**Author's Note:**

> I've loved some other fics which have touched on the idea of Nancy and Margaret finding each other again in America, and wanted to write something about that theme, and the consequences it might or might not have on Nancy and Isabella's relationship.
> 
> There's a possibility that this may become slightly referential to Making an Exit, a fic I wrote last year, but it's really not going to spoil your enjoyment if you haven't read it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter of several. I have a couple of other later chapters in skeletal form, so I have a *very* rough idea of where this is eventually heading, but I’m not sure when more chapters will be added because I think the middle part is going to be tricky. I've been sitting on this for several months, abandoning and returning to it, so who knows what will happen (certainly not me!).

“I want to visit America.”

It was a balmy Sunday evening when she finally said it out loud. She’d been working up the courage for a few weeks but was extremely worried about what the reaction would be. Isabella looked up from the newspaper she was reading - that gossip column, of course, even though she knew Nancy disapproved - and regarded Nancy, a sad smile upon her face. Nancy set her jaw defiantly and gazed back across the room.

“I assumed you may say that at some point in time,” Isabella mused, fixing Nancy with a searching look that would have once made Nancy flinch and avert her gaze. But she kept her eyes firmly locked with Isabella’s. “I just did not think it would be so soon.”

_Soon? It’s been 5 years!_

“I must see her. I must find her.” Nancy hadn’t mentioned Margaret Wells by name for some time. She had told Isabella all of their colourful history, but had always gone to great lengths to explain that her romantic affection for the woman had long since passed. She knew it was true, but she wasn’t wholly convinced that Isabella believed her.

“Passage to America isn’t cheap, Nancy.”

“I been saving the coin I make from Greek Street.” She had been saving lots of money of late. Fanny had been doing great business at the bawdy house and Nancy’s cut, while modest, was enough to survive on as well as put some under her mattress. Not that she needed much money to survive on these days - Isabella mostly saw to the day-to-day costs.

She wasn’t quite living at St James’ yet, but as good as. Nancy still needed her own space and occasionally she took herself off to Greek Street for a night or two, shutting herself quietly in the small room she still kept there. The first time Nancy had stolen away back to Greek Street for the night, she had simply disappeared. Isabella had looked so forlorn upon her return that she made Nancy promise to at the very least leave a note (lately these notes had included increasingly filthy illustrations at the bottom, something which still had the capacity to shock Isabella, but made Nancy grin).

Often Nancy would stop off to check up on the remaining Wells family en route. Will had achieved some notoriety due to the successful boxing matches he was running, and of course he was still very active in organising the community with Harriet Lennox to avoid any more of their people being captured by slave traders. He always had time for Nancy, and frequently they would sit in comfortable silence together in the tavern with a few gins. Jacob was now a young man and had set himself up as a bully in Soho, but Nancy knew he was still a bit wet behind the ears - every time he saw her he would hug her just as tightly as he did when he was a little’un.

Occasionally she even saw Lucy, although that was rare these days because Nancy wouldn’t cross the threshold of Golden Square for fear of seeing Mrs Quigley (when would that demon finally die?). Lucy wouldn’t visit her, because she complained that she never knew where to find Nancy anymore. Nancy mourned the loss of Lucy to Mrs Quigley almost as much as she had mourned Charlottes untimely passing, but whenever they were able to steal a few minutes on the doorstep of Golden Square, Nancy always noted that Lucy seemed happy and peaceful.

“So you have sufficient funds for the crossing?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Will it be a return journey?” The searching look returned and this time Nancy looked away almost immediately. The question hit her hard, and her stomach knotted uncomfortably, as if one of Mrs Quigley’s worst culls had just knocked the wind out of her.

“I… I don’t know,” Nancy stuttered, gazing down at the Persian rug on the floor for a full minute before stealing a hurried glance at Isabella. A look of pity had spread over Isabella’s face and her brow was furrowed. Nancy frowned and feigned interest in the cushion next to her, running her fingers down the edges of it, stroking the beautiful fabric. How she wished she could have some gin to help steer this conversation.

“Nancy. She’s married. To a… to a man.”

“There ain’t no flies on you,” quipped Nancy, bitterly.

“It just seems a little bit dramatic, Nancy. To show up at her doorstep… for what exactly?” Isabella wasn’t stupid. She knew how Nancy had felt about Margaret Wells. She also happened to know that it had remained unrequited. She was fairly certain that it was because Margaret Wells did not share Nancy’s desire for the female form. If Nancy’s tales of their youth were to be believed, the relationship had been very chaste and had never been consummated. It all seemed a little one-sided to Isabella (although she had never dared to share that supposition with Nancy).

“Don’t ya know I already know that? I know how stupid and frivolous it all sounds,” Nancy said quietly, fearing her voice would soon crack. “But I’ve got to see her. I’ve got to tell her I’m sorry.”

Nancy had tried to keep her guilt about the way she had dismissed Margaret under control, but recently she’d been lying awake at night, Isabella in her arms, convincing herself that Maggie would soon die thinking Nancy hated her. She knew it was irrational - only five years had passed, and America was unlikely to have turned Maggie into an old crone on her deathbed so quickly, but she had to apologise before it was too late. Not many women of their class lived to see old age.

“And what about me? Do I fit into this notion?” Isabella said matter-of-factly. There wasn’t a hint of malice in her voice, and Nancy briefly marvelled at how Isabella could stay so calm.

“It ain’t like that anymore, Isabella. Me and you… that… that is different.” Isabella got up and walked across the room, sitting herself down next to Nancy on the chaise and placing one hand gently in her lap.

“How so?” enquired Isabella. Nancy looked up at Isabella, and smiled softly at her, entwining her fingers with Isabella’s.

“You give me the time of day. Mags never saw me as you do. I don’t love her anymore - not like I love you.” Nancy paused. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever said that out loud to Isabella before, but it didn’t garner a reaction. Isabella’s card-playing days were long behind her now, but her face remained impressively neutral and unreadable.

“But she’s my best friend an’ I can’t live with this guilt no more,” Nancy continued. “The way we parted was so awful. She took all the blame for Isaac’s murder, and I didn’t even say goodbye. I just told her where to go. I have to find her… I have to tell her that I don’t hate her. I can’t die with that on my head. I just can’t. And she can’t die thinking I hate her neither.” Nancy could feel herself beginning to babble and she looked desperately at Isabella.

It was a long while before Isabella spoke. She kept making noises as if she was about to start speaking, then stopping abruptly as if she thought better of it. Nancy sat patiently, idly stroking Isabella’s hand with her thumb.

“Very well. I think you should go and make your peace with Margaret.” Nancy grinned at Isabella, reaching a hand up to Isabella’s face, leaning in to kiss her full lips. But Isabella put her hand up, pressing a finger lightly over Nancy’s lips. “But… I will only allow it if I am permitted to chaperone you.”

Isabella knew full well that she couldn’t stop Nancy from going, but she would be damned if she didn’t try and support her lover. Nancy’s eyes narrowed and she batted Isabella’s finger away a little too aggressively as she stood up angrily. Isabella shrank away from Nancy, looking hurt but Nancy hardly noticed as she began pacing up and down the drawing room.

“Allow it?! Chaperone me?! I ain’t a teenage girl from the gentry, Isabella! You know I could just go without ya! What do you think might happen to me anyway? It ain’t gonna be any worse than growing up at Mrs Quigley’s.”

“Nancy,” Isabella began; her voice was calm but she spoke sternly. “I know full well that you can look after yourself. But I think seeing Margaret Wells again after so long may upset you. I don’t want you halfway across the ocean in a foreign land when she breaks your heart. _Again_.”

“I ain’t going so she can break my heart,” Nancy said indignantly, still on her feet, but she did take a deep breath, calming herself. “I don’t think she’s even in my heart anymore. Not like that. I’m going because I want to see my closest friend.”

“I know. But what happens when you are there may upset you and I… I only wish to help you. I care deeply about you.” Nancy knew she was right. Isabella had seen the state Nancy had been in during the aftermath of Charlotte’s murder and was the only person who helped her get through that awful, godforsaken time. She was the best person to be there with her for this. Nancy nodded and sat back down next to Isabella.

“Very well, we’ll both go,” Nancy said, with a half-smile. The sad look on Isabella’s face seemed to soften ever to slightly. “Bed?”

“Bed.” Isabella nodded.

Nancy took Isabella’s hand and they ascended the stairs together. By the time Isabella had removed her dress and stays, unpinned her hair and rinsed the powder from her face, Nancy was already sound asleep in their bed. She got under the sheet and pressed her body against Nancy’s, draping one arm gently around Nancy’s slight frame. Nancy stirred slightly, shifting herself slightly to nestle into Isabella’s warm body behind her before drifting off again.

“I love you too…” Isabella murmured into the dark.


End file.
